nebulous
by xoVanilla-Bean
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Tifa didn't like stars very much. — Tifacentric


**A/N: **I blame school and all of my make up work that I should have been working on for this. But why do I do such mean things to my favorite pair? D: I promise that I love them together, but I'm blaming my stressed out mood for making it seem anti-CloudTifa-ish. Anyway, I don't really know if I like this or not. But I guess it's because it was inspired by...er...that boy in biology class. Yep. Sad, I know.

nebulous

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She found herself sitting alone on the well quite frequently. It was usually at night, when the stars were a few galaxies away and the moon sat atop its invisible throne above humanity's head. She sometimes felt it was watching her, intruding on her privacy and disemboweling all of her thoughts for the audience of stars to see.

She'd never sit in the same spot twice, because she didn't want to think of the same things again. Every spot gave her something new to ponder, yet it all led to the same thing every time.

Sometimes, she could still feel his warmth on the wooden planks he sat on, but only when she'd skim her fingertips across, pensive and hopeful. It took a lot of concentration, and it would make her wonder if he was real, if he was still existing right then, underneath the cratered eye.

On nights like these, where everything was silent and dark and suffocating, she would wonder where all of her optimism came from. The planks would creak with every breath she took, and she felt herself rotting with it. She didn't know how long it would be until the planks stopped holding her up and together.

But during the days, the well would take on a different tone. It was always there, always, when she passed by every day.

It was always in the center of the town, always, feeding and sucking out the life of it at the same time. And she knew that it was one of the greatest symbols for her, as it would stand tall and proud, just haunting her with hope that she never asked for. Yet, it would fill her up and remind her every day in an all too familiar voice to smile and wait. Even when she really didn't want to.

She realized that it was an even bigger symbol than his sidewalk. She remembered when she would glance at him a few too many times, partially obscured by all the heads surrounding her. She'd find him watching her a few times, but she'd also find him looking at the sky, the ground, the distance, everywhere but at her. She couldn't help the tiny pinprick of a needle finding its way to her side whenever he held a vacant, faraway look in his eyes.

She remembered thinking of him as untouchable. Maybe it was the way he held his chin up, insecurity hiding an intrepid spirit that didn't want to show its face. It could've been how he'd sit there, sometimes looking at her, sometimes not. But he was so far away in those two feet, and it always made her fall back into the blanket of the community of boys that didn't sit away, that always looked at her. That never made her feel...

Unworthy may not be the right word, but she could never place it—that one feeling that almost completely made her slip.

He jumped out at her in every shadow, in every trail, in every blade of grass. She could taste him in the atmosphere and briefly remember his cursory touch from the mountain clashing against the big, blue sky.

So she liked it at night best, when the town was covered in black and shielded her from the stinging of the sharp, sharp spikes of his hair and the double-sided looks they seemed to always give each other.

But the well, it was never hidden. It was the heart of the town, feeding and sucking, and even the blackest, darkest emotion couldn't ever cover up something so vital.

Splinters found their way underneath her nails, biting at the almost fully covered, tender flesh. Nothing could ever be completely protected when she was holding on so tightly.

But she couldn't let go, because the well was her heart, beating and throbbing and splitting her sternum through and through. Looking at the stars made her feel ashamed, made her breathing become so rapid, and the well—it was shaking so _much_.

She felt him sitting inside, calling her and making fissures all around. But the light, it was coming out and just so _bright_, beckoning her to come and reach, and maybe to let herself go. Even if she really didn't want to.

She couldn't stop herself from crawling up to the opening, looking into the white streaming and bursting from the inside. She found, to her surprise, that it wasn't white at all—but just so, so blue, and she wondered why he was doing this to her. He wasn't _there_ but he was making her lean into his deceiving eyes that were just as confused as she was.

The nameless feeling, it made her hand slip. And the quaking, it made the board tip inward.

And she hated this and this well and this disregarded feeling because now she was falling into it against her will. But she found herself smiling—the eyes were becoming closer and closer. In this second, she didn't mind if they were confused or undecided. She didn't mind that the promise made was creaking the boards of her veins. Hell, now she didn't mind that she _was_ falling.

Her smile started to fade when she saw that the eyes were, too. The closer she got, the farther they became, and she couldn't tell what emotion they were hiding anymore. The creaking boards were dividing her up and breaking her apart.

And the fall—it ended with a splash and a booming explosion. Her sternum shattered from the impact, and the core of her was as contaminated as the well water.

She didn't really know what happened, but now the bricked walls were making her splintered fingers bleed and there was a certain rift going down her body that made her perfectly asymmetrical. And now there was a burning, blistering, contaminated trail slipping down her cheek to her neck, and it hurt almost as much as the explosion of the filthy promise. It was just an excuse to make him come back anyway. It wasn't like he could turn such a thing down, even if he wanted to.

She hated how he was so untouchable, how even now he would elude her, like a forgotten dream. And she hated how he wasn't there, and how it was worse than if he was still on the sidewalk, trying to ignore her with his earnest eyes that—

Earnest. He never had a faraway look in his eyes, did he?

But she didn't care, because he had broken her heart with his look, his touch, his _existence_. Too bad it wouldn't be the last time he would.

She looked up to see the blurred stars twinkling and laughing at her, knowing each and every horrid emotion that ran through each newly acquired valley inside.

And now, she was stuck in the folds of her crevasses, plateaus, mountains of her well that was rotting, rotting, rotting, and...how would she ever get out?

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_Thanks_ for **reading.**


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